Rain or Shine
by ijnt
Summary: One night in the rain, during the timeskip, Jiraiya stumbles on a familiar face in a bar, and learns just what his students have been up to in the years since he's last seen them. Unfortunately, he's got Naruto with him, and the kid's not very good at recognizing danger.


Jiraiya noticed her the moment he walked in the room.

That, in itself, wasn't much of a surprise. Jiraiya was the first to tell anyone he met how much he appreciated pretty women, and she was _very_ pretty. So, it was natural that Jiraiya, self-proclaimed Super Pervert, having something of a sixth sense when it came to pretty women, picked her out of the crowd so easily.

The surprising part was that he'd honestly never expected to see her again. He'd asked her to come find him when she turned eighteen, but he'd been joking when he'd said that. And he'd thought she was dead — along with the other two students he had taught all those years ago in the country of Rain.

She'd grown — she was in her mid-thirties, not the coltish, long-legged girl he'd left, yet to develop into the beauty she'd now become. And he was pleased to see the flower she still wore in her hair, reassuring in its ubiquitousness, even if the labret below pale, perfect lips stared up at him like a knife under soft silk.

Now, he couldn't help but think about writing a blue-haired enemy kunoichi with an impressive bust who dressed provocatively in his next edition of Icha Icha. It was worth considering, at least.

And it would be better to think about that than the three kids he'd left behind, in a war — three young, innocent kids that he'd mourned so thoroughly.

He grinned, instead, glad that he'd told Naruto that he was off to find a pretty girl. The reunion would be easier without the kid there. Jiraiya put on his best swagger, and sauntered up to her table.

"Hey there! What's a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, making sure to add an over-the-top wink.

She didn't react like he'd expected — in fact, she barely reacted at all. She looked at him, but her expression didn't change in the slightest.

"Jiraiya."

"Hey, Konan!" he said, settling into the chair across from her. "I gotta say, I never expected to see you again. You've sure grown into a hell of a woman."

She didn't say anything. She just stared at him. It wasn't a bewildered stare, not like the kind that women gave him sometimes, as if they couldn't tell whether he was real or not. It wasn't even the kind of hateful stare he got when he offended someone.

It was just...blank. Empty. He could see no emotion, no feeling, no welcome in her eyes. She just looked at him, eyes like luminous moons, uninterested and empty.

"Hey," he said again, feeling a chill go down his spine. "Konan, it's me, Jiraiya. You remember me, right?"

"I do."

"What — what happened, Konan? I thought you were dead. I've heard nothing from Ame since I left you guys," he asked, feeling like something was wrong. This wasn't the bright, cheerful girl that he'd left behind. Years changed people, but this cold woman barely resembled her teenage self.

"Something's happened to Yahiko, hasn't it?" he said.

Her eyes flashed, fury evident for a second before they shuttered again. He was right, but it'd been foolish to blurt it out like that.

"It's been a long time, Jiraiya."

He drew back, observing her more carefully. "It has," he agreed.

She was wearing a very revealing shirt, quadruple-pierced navel — and wasn't that something — bared to the world. A far cry from the shy girl who'd crushed on her orange-haired teammate from afar. This wasn't the Konan he knew.

"How are you, Konan. How are you really?"

"I've come a long way from begging Konoha ninja for help, Jiraiya."

"You have," he said carefully. "I just wanted to catch up with my old student. How is your paper jutsu these days?"

Her expression didn't change, but her eyes did soften very slightly. She raised a fine, graceful arm, and then he watched as it seamlessly flowed into paper sheets, which fluttered around the table in lazy circles. No hand signs, no visible effort.

He was truly impressed.

"That's a beautiful technique," he said, hoping for a smile. Konan used to smile at every little thing.

She nodded. He wanted to ask about Yahiko's water release or Nagato's eyes, but he wasn't sure if he would get an answer from this new Konan.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as the waitress came by and Jiraiya ordered some warm sake. Konan declined anything else. After the waitress left, Konan lifted her small cup to her lips, almost as if she had forgotten she had it.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while.

She raised her eyebrows.

"For leaving you all," he elaborated. "You don't have to say anything — I can tell. Something happened. I don't want to pry, but clearly you kids weren't as fine as I thought you would be. And I'm sorry for that. You're my students — I should have been there for you."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"I know it may not mean much, but I would never have left you if I had known. Just another one of an old man's mistakes," he said, with a chuckle that turned maudlin.

"It's in the past. A long time ago."

Jiraiya cracked a smile. "I'm glad that I met you here."

Something changed in Konan's expression. The atmosphere went stiff and cold again.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Jiraiya-sensei."

He laughed. She'd called him sensei! He hadn't realized how much he'd missed that.

"Of course I'm sure! I'm always happy to meet a pretty woman in a bar!" he crowed.

If she was amused or flattered, she didn't show it. Instead, she continued as if he hadn't said anything.

"After you left, we formed a group to bring peace to the country of Rain. A group to oppose Hanzō of the Salamander." Jiraiya wanted to interrupt, but something in her eyes made him hold his tongue. "We wanted to make the world a better place, so no one would have to grow up the way we did. We had dreams. Yahiko's dream — one of a world without orphans, without war..." She trailed off, seemingly in thought.

"What happened?" Jiraiya asked.

"The same thing that happens to all dreams," she said, and her voice was quiet wind over untouched snow. "They were tread upon."

Jiraiya wasn't sure what to say to that, so he let her have her space.

Then, he figured he owed her at least an attempt at an explanation, so he ventured, "I took more students after you."

She didn't really react, but he was growing accustomed to her new mannerisms, and he knew enough to know she was listening.

He continued, "I had a team. Two of them died in the Third War. The third — he was a prodigy. The greatest shinobi in the world, they called him. Konoha's Yellow Flash. The Yondaime Hokage." He looked at her, and saw the understanding there. "I don't need to tell you what happened to him."

She raised her cup.

He thought of Takeshi, who'd taken a kunai for a fellow Leaf ninja — not even one of his team. He thought of Minato, who'd stood alone against a force of nature to defend his people. He looked into Konan's eyes, and wondered if she stood alone, carrying on that noble, foolish dream.

He raised his cup.

Once they'd drunk, they lapsed into silence again.

He was the first to break it — this new Konan was neither verbose nor chatty. "I suppose that explains it. I am truly glad to see you, Konan. Sometimes, I wonder if the Great Toad Sage's prophecy was more of a curse — whether it was worth it, in the end, to…"

He trailed off, thinking of Naruto.

Her quiet voice broke him from his melancholy. "We were nothing without you. But strength can only take you so far."

And wasn't that the story of his life — maybe if he'd been a bit less trusting, a bit less suspicious, a bit less inclined towards dreams and idealism — maybe. He thought of Orochimaru, who'd been his best friend — albeit grudgingly — until Jiraiya had turned around one day and found him unrecognizable.

Maybe.

He forced those thoughts away, though, and grinned. "But don't let an old man's troubles bother you! You're much too pretty for sad thoughts! Tell me — do you read _Icha Icha_?"

Her impassive face told him everything he needed to know. He let out a guffaw, genuinely amused now. She was exasperated at his antics — Yahiko had always gone along with it, enthusiastic as he was with everything. Nagato had been far too shy, too unsure of himself, too used to thinking he was the least of them. But Konan had always reminded him of a somewhat more gullible Tsunade — she'd humor him where his teammate wouldn't, but the air of exasperated fondness was the same.

But Tsunade was much better at hiding her fondness for him. In fact, most people would probably think that she hated him, but Jiraiya knew better. She didn't like to admit it, but Tsunade cared for him. Deep down. Somewhere, very deep down.

He smiled to himself and raised his cup again. He wanted to ask about Yahiko and Nagato, but trepidation coiled in his gut, like a sated snake, languid and lazy and yet still very dangerous.

Jiraiya held his tongue, content to just sit quietly with his student — who was alive! And good-looking! He let his mind wander, spinning a tale of a beleaguered blue-haired kunoichi who'd lost the love of her life finding comfort in the arms of a dark, mysterious man with a tragic past.

And then Konan looked at him, eyes sharp like icicles, and he knew he was not going to like whatever she had to say next.

"We call ourselves the Akatsuki."

His heart stopped.

She reached to her side, where a very familiar cloak had rested out of sight for their entire conversation. Black cloak, red clouds.

Akatsuki. Daybreak.

In that moment, it all made sense to him — it was exactly the kind of name that Yahiko would choose.

He wondered, briefly, what kind of plan for peace included recruiting elite rogue ninja from around the world to perform missions and kidnapping jinchūriki, but it was quashed immediately by the cold, jagged realization that the old student he'd been conversing familiarly with was one of the leaders of a group that he'd been working behind the shadows to oppose for nearly a decade.

He'd been in the spider's web, sitting directly over her trap, and he'd never even realized it.

But that revelation was nothing to the hard, heavy horror that impacted his gut at the thought of Naruto. He'd had some close calls with the kid in the past, but if he came looking for Jiraiya...well, he thought back to that hotel in Fire Country, and how lucky he'd been that Uchiha Itachi and Hoshigaki Kisame had fled.

He simply had to pray that the kid stayed back at the hotel tonight, because he imagined Konan was no slouch, and he knew that the Akatsuki were never alone. Her partner was bound to be somewhere, and if it was another of his old students, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle two of them.

Plus, he wouldn't be able to scare Konan off. She wasn't mercenary like the rest had been. She _believed_. And that belief was far more frightening than puppets, explosions, mangekyō eyes, bijū-worthy chakra levels, or any immortality jutsu.

If they fought here and now, she'd come at him with everything she had.

He realized then he'd been quiet for almost a whole minute after she admitted she was part of the group, and scrambled to find something to say.

Somehow, "I'm sorry that it looks like we may have to try and kill each other later," didn't seem like it would cut it. He sighed, and pressed his palms into his eyes, and rubbed. It didn't help.

"I...see," he said. "You've come a long way from being orphans in the rain."

For the first time, her eyes looked amused.

"Now, you understand."

He did. He was just beginning to find his feet in this treacherous new swamp of a conversation when his luck decided to run out, in glorious fashion.

Naruto walked in.

Jiraiya very carefully didn't look over, hoping the kid would take the hint.

He didn't, of course.

Konan would recognize him instantly — he wouldn't be her target, as Uchiha and Hoshigaki were hunting him — but she'd know who he was. Damnit, and he'd just admitted that he had taught the Yellow Flash.

She'd put it together in a heartbeat, if she hadn't already.

And then Naruto saw him — not that a man like Jiraiya could hide, and his face lit up into that goofy grin of his that practically squeezed his eyes shut — and he started walking towards them.

Jiraiya glanced over at Konan, and realized that she'd spotted Naruto too, and didn't bother with stealth anymore. He flexed his fingers, readying himself to throw his teacup at her.

Naruto ambled up, and said, very loudly, "Pervy-sage! I know you told me not to bother you because you're tryna find a pretty lady, but I can't make ramen cuz the water heater in our room is broken and the crabby old lady told me to get lost and this is like the _only _place to get food in this town!"

Jiraiya was half-paralyzed by shock, and half-knife's edge tense, feeling like his tongue was stuck halfway down his throat.

Konan was luckily still as impassive as ever, watching Naruto through cool eyes.

Naruto leaned slightly closer to Jiraiya, and dropped his voice to a whisper — though half the bar could probably still hear him. Naruto wasn't very good at whispering.

"Hey, she's _really _pretty. And too young for you. But really, why's she all stiff like that? She's not — she's not like a robot or something, right? Cuz I saw a movie about robots the other day and—"

"Naruto," Jiraiya cut him off, almost absentmindedly, because his gaze was focused solely on Konan, but her eyes were glittering with mirth and her mouth, which had stayed firmly in a thin line that constantly threatened to turn downwards into a frown the entire night, now twitched upwards into a small but genuine smile.

Jiraiya's jaw dropped.

"Naruto — kid, this isn't the best time," he said, his embarrassment thoroughly drowned in his fear.

"Well, then, who's this, _Pervy-sage_?" Konan purred, and he'd be damned but that sounded sexy even if he wasn't in the state to appreciate that kind of thing. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your handsome friend?"

"Wait, what?" Jiraiya asked. "You're not talking about the midget, right?"

"Oi!" said midget protested.

"Well, who else around here is handsome?" she said, very pointedly looking past Jiraiya.

Naruto grinned, and preened.

"I'll have you know, I'm a very good-looking older man," Jiraiya said, grinning. He hadn't quite relaxed, but since Naruto had showed up and she'd starting teasing him she felt quite a bit more like the girl he'd known.

"Ahhh, you're funny, Pervy-sage," Naruto said, and they laughed at him.

Konan pointed to the seat next to Jiraiya, and Naruto popped over and sat down next to him. He stared at the kid, wondering if he'd learned nothing about the dangers of pretty women that Jiraiya had tried to teach him.

"Naruto!" he whispered, harshly. "Don't you know who this woman is? Don't you see the cloak she just moved?"

"Of course I do, I'm not stupid, you know? But she wouldn't have invited me to sit if she wanted to attack me! And you're a big stupid hypocrite! Cuz if she's really that dangerous, why you tryna pick her up?"

The palm of his hand met his forehead in a satisfying _smack_. "You little moron! What if she was just lulling you into a false sense of security!?"

"Well, she isn't!"

And then, because it was just his luck, Konan's amused voice joined the fray. "Yes, Jiraiya-sensei, can't an old student visit her master in peace, _Pervy-sage_?"

He peered up at her, and all of a sudden his breath caught because he was staring at the woman he'd come expecting to see. Her amber-orange eyes were warm and sparkling, and her mouth was still in that small, quirky smile that she'd worn since Naruto opened his mouth.

He began to laugh, recognizing the reassurance behind the question, and decided to roll with it.

"Ahahahaha! You can't mess with an old man like that! If I didn't know any better, I'd say that my cute little students were conspiring to give me a heart attack!"

And then Naruto turned to Konan like she wasn't an elite mercenary out for his blood, and asked, "Hey, did you say that Pervy-sage was your teacher?"

She nodded.

"Then, what's a pretty lady like you doing with a dirty old man like him!?"

Jiraiya had to take a second to marvel at Naruto warning her about him — he was twenty years too late for that — and just sat back to enjoy the moment.

She leaned towards Naruto indulgently, and said, "Well, when my friends and I needed someone to teach us, he was the strongest ninja around."

Naruto perked up immediately. "Hey, me too! That pervert Ebisu was going to teach me but then this old guy ruined it so I made him teach me instead! He's supposed to be super strong, y'know?"

She nodded, grave.

He rambled onwards, "Well, then he taught me to summon Gamabunta! He's a grumpy old man, too, you, know, and then I beat up Neji and then the Sand and that nasty snake guy attacked and then me and Gamabunta totally beat up Gaara and made him be our friend!"

The thought of the Sand's Kazekage brought Jiraiya down from his high a bit. He realized something there, in that moment: He didn't trust Konan.

He wanted to — oh how he wanted to, and to admit it to himself was almost physically painful. He steeled himself. No matter who she'd been, she'd admitted that she was a part of the Akatsuki — she had their cloak and everything, and she had to be a high-ranking person in the organization. If she wasn't the leader, she was close to them, at least.

What if she was simply more subtle than the rest? What if she was planning to sway Naruto to her side with honeyed words and an indulgent expression? He sighed. What a complicated world it had become.

"Naruto," he said, interrupting their whispering. "Here," he held out his wallet. Naruto took it, looking confused. "Go to the bar and get something to eat. I need to talk to our friend here."

Naruto took the wallet, eyes flicking between him and Konan's expression, which had shuttered back to frosty.

He looked like he wanted to protest, but instead, he just took the wallet, and said, "It was nice meeting you, Konan."

She smiled at him — another small, tremulous thing, like she was wholly unused to the act and only half-remembered how to in the first place — and nodded.

He turned back to Jiraiya, questions in his eyes, but now of all times he seemed to remember his training, and he said nothing, instead simply gave him a look that told Jiraiya he'd have a lot of questions to answer later, and disappeared through the bar off to the actual bar, where he sat down and grinned at the woman behind the counter.

Jiraiya turned back to Konan, feeling old and tired. He couldn't trust her — she was Akatsuki. The excuse felt hollow, even to himself.

Konan was, if possible, looking less welcoming than she had before Naruto showed up, and he sensed he'd lost some progress with her.

"I don't — Naruto trusts people too much," he tried to explain. "I can't — you know who he is — _what _he is."

"I do," she said, and her voice was positively glacial.

He sighed. "I'm too old for this."

She said nothing, only peered at him, her eyes unreadable again.

"I need — I need _something_. I need to know that you're not just trying to take him with words instead of force," he said, his gut churning. "I want to trust you. I do! I just..._can't_. Will you tell me how Nagato is doing, at least?"

He figured that asking about Nagato was a comparatively safer topic than Yahiko.

Her eyes narrowed.

"I think it's best if we part ways for today, Jiraiya," she said, reaching down to button up her coat.

Jiraiya said, "Wait—"

"If you truly think so little of me, then we have nothing more to say to each other." And then she disappeared out the door.

Jiraiya put his head in his hands. He'd not allowed himself to trust her, because she was so — so different from the girl he'd known. And then she'd changed so completely when Naruto showed up. It had seemed genuine, but that's what made it so dangerous — he'd only done the logical thing, and prevented someone naive like Naruto from being taken for a ride.

So why did he feel so much like he'd messed something up?

Naruto was a good kid, yeah, but he didn't get a lot of the subtleties of life. He couldn't risk the jinchūriki, not when Konan had been so obviously different than the girl he'd known from the start.

Speaking of, he looked up as Naruto slumped to the table, a bowl of ramen — what else? — in his hand.

"Pervy-sage," the kid said sternly. "I thought you were supposed to be smooth with the ladies! You can't go all 'you're untrustworthy' on them like that! Even I know you gotta be more subtle about those kinds of things!"

Jiraiya let out a half-hysterical laugh at the absurdity of being lectured on how to talk to women by _Naruto _of all people.

"Naruto, she was Akatsuki. No matter how nice or pretty she is, that means you can't trust her."

"I thought she was your student! Does that mean you won't trust me if you see me later, too!?" Naruto said, sounding genuinely angry.

"She's with the enemy! They're hunting people like you, kid!" he said.

"I know," Naruto said. "But she was trying to be nice. How are we supposed to change anything if we're not willing to take the first step?"

Jiraiya sighed.

"Naruto, how do you know she wasn't being nice to try to trick you into trusting her so she could betray you later?"

"I don't! But that's something we have to risk if we want to change anything!" Naruto was practically yelling now.

"You're a valuable asset, kid. We can't risk you," Jiraiya said, trying to stay calm.

"Ugh! You don't get it! That's not the point! The point is that she was nice and you were just a jerk!" the kid said, and grabbed his bowl, and stomped out the door.

What a fucking mess.

Jiraiya picked up his sake, and didn't bother with the tiny cup this time — he took a swig straight from the bottle. The worst part was that for people like Naruto, it was that simple. At times, he envied Naruto — the kid certainly lived in a brighter, simpler world than he did. It was a world that he'd seen through the eyes of his students — Naruto, Minato, Yahiko. And he'd seen it end badly far too many times to let Naruto do that to himself.

He set the bottle down with a clunk, eyes widening.

_Fuck_.

_Yahiko_. What if Yahiko _was _dead? It explained...so much. Konan's strange robot impression, the way that Akatsuki had changed so much from its origin, the way she'd brightened up at Naruto's...Naruto-ness.

She'd latched onto him like that because he reminded her of her dead lover. And then Jiraiya had proceeded to cock it up with all the subtlety and tact of a rampaging Tsunade in a hot springs. He winced at the memory — both of them, in fact.

If Konan had been truly genuine towards Naruto, then she must have been going against everything she'd been working for for decades. And he'd taken that and thrown it in her face.

He stood up, paid his bill and left. The night was cool and clear, and, on a whim, he spoke to the night, hoping that she hadn't fled immediately, that she was still lurking around somewhere.

"Konan. You can't hear me right now, but I fucked up. I think you really did mean it. If you can find it in your heart to forgive your foolish old sensei, I'd appreciate it. If not, well, I hope you don't hold it against the kid," he said.

Then he nodded to himself, and headed out to the place where they were staying. He had an apology to make, it seemed.

* * *

A shape blurred through the rain, paper wings flapping in the darkness, moving quicker than even most S-rank shinobi could match.

Konan loved the rain.

If she thought hard about it, she could see glimpses of a beautiful blue-haired woman dancing in the rain. She always smelled of jasmine and fresh paper and loved her husband, a quiet man with amber-orange eyes that never stopped laughing. The rain then had been fun and they'd smiled and giggled as they jumped from puddle to puddle and surprised her father when he came home from delivering his paper.

They'd been everything to a young Konan, and when she came back from playing alone in the creek, her whole house had been gone, the paper had been burned, and there was nothing left of the idyllic life that she'd known.

Just another orphan in the rain.

She'd hated the rain, then. Hated it because of what it had once meant to her.

She'd taken her paper — her father's paper, the paper that always felt like love and warm hugs and hot soup and dry clothes — and she'd made it hers. Made everyone who'd ever met her in battle fear her paper. She'd made it dangerous, made it her shield and her sword, even when they'd just been orphans, starving and alone, with only dreams of changing the world left to sustain them.

They'd been so scared and so cold, and then after they'd met Jiraiya, they'd used those bits of themselves to become strong. Her paper, the last thing of her mother and father. Nagato's eyes, his birthright, the thing that set him above other shinobi. And Yahiko had taken the rain.

And Konan had loved Yahiko, and thus she couldn't help but love the rain.

After he'd been taken from them, she'd hated the rain because it had again reminded her of what she'd lost.

Now, she'd realized that the rain had always been there for her, and always would would be. And this rain — this rain was God's rain. Ame had a man who hardly deserved the title watching over it, and Konan couldn't help but love the fact that she could reach out and taste Nagato's chakra.

She'd never told him this, but the Deva path had somehow held onto a pinch of Yahiko, and she could almost taste her dead lover there when she ventured too close to the God of Rain. He stood there and watched over her and their country, in Yahiko's body and with Yahiko's jutsu, working to achieve Yahiko's dream.

How could she not love her last remaining friend for that? How could she not appreciate his power, his devotion, his faith?

She couldn't.

Konan loved the rain.

The face of the jinchūriki loomed, then, suddenly, and she clenched her fists. She didn't want to think about him, but she couldn't help but look at him and think _sunshine_. He was so different from her world, all glorious sun and color, like the piercing rays of sunshine breaking through the grey clouds of ennui that comprised her world.

A pity he'd have to die. But they were making a better world, one where there wouldn't be any more orphans lonely in the rain, and all her pain and sadness would be worth the price, even if there was no place for him in it.

What would the heartbreak of killing a child be against the promise of a better world? What was one more lost broken heart, on top of everything else she'd suffered, everything else she'd done?

It was nothing, against saving the world.

Even if it meant tearing what little was left of her heart out of her chest.

Talking to him had been a mistake. She'd intended to tell Jiraiya that she was leaving, to warn him off and bring up his guard, to show him that they were enemies and then bow out gracefully. And then _he'd _come, all whispered cheeks and hair and oh yes she'd recognized him instantly, had wondered then and there whether she could defeat Jiraiya if it really came down to it and solve one of their biggest problems by sheer luck.

Naruto — the jinchūriki, she reminded herself — had stepped up and grinned and then she wasn't seeing him, she was seeing _Yahiko_, the orange-haired boy made thin by hunger, helping out a girl crying in the rain, having just lost the only home she'd ever known.

Here, back in her homeland, in the quiet comfort of the constant downpour, she could think of him as a target again. She could remind herself what was necessary. They hadn't chosen this path because they intended to be saints. They'd chosen this path because it was necessary, it was _right_, and the world needed to have its hypocritical face rubbed in its own inadequacies. So that orphans like her, like Yahiko, like Nagato, like...Naruto...so that orphans like them wouldn't have to face the world alone anymore.

So that no one would have to suffer like she had suffered.

Konan's grueling pace slowed as she approached the central island metropolis that stood at the heart of Ame. A quick jaunt over the water, and she was rising up to the rooftops, wings held behind her. When the people below saw her, they looked up like desperate supplicants.

She ignored them. Divinity was best viewed from a distance.

At the tower in the center of the village, Nagato stood waiting for her. She touched down on the jutting edge of the facade that dominated the building, and stepped carefully forward to meet him as he loomed under the lip of the alcove.

Yahiko's face stared at her, lilac-purple eyes just as dead as the corpse of her former friend.

"Konan," he said, his voice deep and rumbling.

"Nagato," she replied.

"I trust your errand was successful?" he asked.

"Quite."

They stood in silence for a few minutes, no sound but the ever-present rain between them.

"Something's bothering you, angel," he said.

Konan briefly allowed her eyes to close, before opening them again. She hadn't imagined she might have fooled him into thinking nothing had happened. As inexpressive as she was, he'd known her since they were both children. Their moods and feelings were as obvious to each other as the most guileless of civilians. Still, she didn't answer him immediately.

"I...was thinking of Yahiko," she settled on.

His eyes focused on her, intense. Konan had never lied to Nagato, not really, and never about something like this, but she seriously considered it now.

"I can't help but wonder what he must think of us, now," she admitted.

Nagato looked vaguely incredulous at her proclamation. "This is his dream," he said. "We agreed, together, to do this. We are almost ready — the _years _we spent working at this are finally coming to fruition. Why bring this up now?"

Konan stared out into the rain. "I miss him."

Nagato sighed, beside her. "I do too."

They lapsed into silence again.

"When we show the world this pain, they will understand," he said. "That's what he wanted — the world to understand."

"We will make them," she agreed. "I — I'm sorry, for doubting this. But I'm not sure if I'm strong enough without him."

When she chanced a glance at Yahiko's face, she found him smiling, if only slightly.

"Don't worry," he said. "We have his dreams."

Konan smiled. That was true, wasn't it?

"And his rain," she added.

"And his rain," he echoed.

But even days later, Konan couldn't quite get the picture of clear blue eyes and whiskered cheeks out of her mind.

* * *

**an: **Just an old one-shot I had on my computer. Was going to be a whole story at one point, but it works as a canon-compliant one-shot, I think.


End file.
